


Wings of Love

by Datawolf39



Series: DiP AUs [1]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: AU, Gen, Google translate french (at the end), Hurt/Comfort, People have wings, wing!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 16:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18450422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Datawolf39/pseuds/Datawolf39
Summary: In a world where love gives wings to people, Richard does not have them.





	Wings of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [My Love Has Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562251) by [setepenre_set](https://archiveofourown.org/users/setepenre_set/pseuds/setepenre_set). 



> This idea wouldn't leave me alone, maybe one day I will make a full story out of it, but snippets worked very well for something like this.

Richard is used to the stares, used to the pity that he sees reflected in others eyes, he is used to the whispers, and he handles it like a proper British man. He holds his head high, and pretends to not notice as he carries on. He is used to it after all. He’s had years to become accustomed to his winglessness.

~

When he was younger, he had tried to find out if there were others like him. The only cases were sad ones. Those injured in accidents or a removal due to bone cancer.

Nothing like his situation, but at least he couldn't miss what he never had right?

~

There are many benefits to lacking the feathered appendages. He can walk anywhere, without having to retract wings, he can easily sleep on his back, he doesn’t need to worry about shedding, and he gets to opt out of grooming sessions. He also doesn’t have to deal with the unfortunate cramps that come from not exercising your wings enough, he hears others complain about that all the time. all for the low, low price of being a pariah.

It’s a good deal.

It really is.

~

Getting sent to Sainte Marie, is a culture clash in many ways. Unlike in England, where the rainy days have people pulling in their wings so that they are covered in some way from the precipitation, an action that allows him to pay less attention to what he lacks, people have them on full display on the island.

When he meets the commissioner, Dwayne, Lily, and Fidel for the first time, he notices the looks they give him as they see his lack of wings. Of course he does, he’s received them for as long as he can remember, and he knows that they are not the last that will look at him in this way. He uses his natural know-it all abrasiveness, and tendency to complain, to erase it. After all he is pretty peeved about his luggage, and he rather have annoyed looks than pitying ones.

~

He notices their wings, how could he not. The commissioner has medium sized wings, coated with many colors, a few more dominant than the others.

Dwayne’s are large, adorned with a rainbow of colors.

Fidel’s are large as well, but coated with a few colors dominantly, and a few others sporadically.

Lily’s are small, he notices only three colors patterned in them.

~

The cleaning lady hides her wings. Large shirt covering them. He wonders if they have a lot of gray in them. He wishes for a moment that she was like him, before he shakes the thought away. Nobody was like him, and no one deserved to be.

~

He solves the case, and yet he is still on the island.

While his quality of life was not great in England, he could hide behind a desk, and depend on technology to do the bulk of his communication with others. On this sinfully hot island, he is forced to see what he is not, witness the colorful wings always on display, and he hates it more than he hates the heat, although he would never admit that to anyone else.

~

Camille’s wings are beautiful. She wears them out the first day she comes to the station joining the team. Many colors are patterned in them. The dominant colors are cream, red, and pale blue. He has a hard time looking away, much to his embarrassment. A lot of wing etiquette escapes him, but even he knows that staring is considered rude.

~

Catherine’s wings are lovely too, like her daughter’s, but with more gray feathers, because even in death, there were people whose love reached her.

He hates how jealous that makes him.

~

None of their wings gain extra feathers or colors, no matter how much he cares for them. Of course they don't, but he still feels the disappointment.

~

They don’t know that he is there. It’s the only explanation. They have worked together for a while, and they don’t tend to do much more than tease him about his wardrobe, love of hot beverages despite the climate, and the fact that he is best friends with a lizard.

“Do his parents truly not care for him?” He hears Fidel ask.

“How else would you explain it? Camille replies.

“Maybe he can’t grow them,” Dwayne says. To the others it’s clear he means some sort of medical condition or something that physically prevents them from growing.

Richard however simply hears a confirmation of what he truly believes, It hurts, much more than it should. It confirms to him that the closest people to him, the first ones he ever in his mind labeled ‘friends’ think he is broken. Love can not reach him, not that anyone would love him in the first place, he knows that, he does, so why did it still hurt that, despite the bond that seems to be forming, his feelings don’t reach the others?

~

He runs out, they don’t need to see him caught in turmoil that he couldn’t repress, he needs to be strong for them. It is the one thing he can do right. His value is based on his intellect, and his ability to apply it, he is nothing other than useless as he is at the moment.

This will not break him.

He is used to it.

  
~

For the first time in years, he cries for what he does not have, He cries because his love is not good enough, He cries because there will never be a physical manifestation of love on him, he is a wingless creature, a being undeserving of love.

Catherine, of all people finds him. His exit was not as stealthy as he had thought it seemed.

She looks at him, and for a moment, he expects harsh words or for her to laugh at him. Instead, her face softens, not with pity, but with understanding.

She helps him up, ignoring the tears that are still falling despite his best efforts, and just talks about island gossip, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary.

If he was capable, he would love her.

~

  
He returns to work head held high.

He thinks it is concern that he sees in the gazes of the others, but he shakes it away, Not many had ever been concerned about him, and he was probably misreading their expressions.

~

The team was deeply concerned, even more so, by the lack of Richard’s concern for their concern. Didn’t he know how they felt about him? Even without wings, wasn't it obvious?

~

Richard wakes in pain, His back is sore.

He blames the mattress, and groans as he shifts onto his stomach.

When he wakes the pain has lessened to a dull ache.

~

The ache is constant, and wakes him often enough.

Over the counter pain medication, helps a little, but by the third day, he is alternating between a heating pad, and ice.

He tries not to let it affect his work, but that results in extreme silence, so that he doesn’t say anything too harsh or give away the pain he is in.

 

~

Camille is falling.

A stupid accident, a perfect combination of bad things.

The day he had decided to simply seek medical attention for the pain in his back, she had told him that she wanted to show him something. His back was tender, but he could wait another day to have it looked at, because in all likelihood it was simply several pulled muscles resulting from more physical activity than he was used to.

She was practicing for the Angel’s Dance. A large festival held on Sainte Marie as a expression of love, and appreciation. Just like about 7000 other festivals they had. He had warned her about going so high, quoted a ton of statistics, but she had laughed at him, called him a worrywart, and told him to watch her routine. She had made it special this year, and wanted to see if he would notice what she was trying to convey with her movements.

The flock of birds came out of nowhere, several hitting one of her wings, then she was falling, the injured wing no longer able to hold her, and the other flailing in an effort to do so. Nobody would be able to grab her, anyone with the strength to fly up and catch her was too far away.

More than ever he wished he could fly.

It didn’t matter that he was unlovable. He loved her.

He _loved_ her!

That had to be worth something, he was capable of love, otherwise, he would not feel this anguish.

“Please...” He cried out as he watched her fall, and suddenly, he was screaming in pain. A bubbling under his skin had him crying out, yanking off his suit jacket in a rush, and then his shirt. He tossed both carelessly to the ground, and he was still screaming, and crying, as he clumsily launched himself from a standstill and into the air,

By some miracle, he caught her, and by a second one, got them to the ground with only a few scratches to show for it.

Everything hurt, and he screamed again, blinded by the pain of new muscles aching with the use, before falling into a calming blackness.

~

He wakes in a hospital, he is surrounded by people- no _friends_ , he wouldn’t presume any more than that. His back aches, he feels like he has been run over by a double decker bus, and then trampled by an elephant. He tries to remember what happened. A sudden movement catches his attention, and he notices wings.

_His wings._

He has wings!

His back spasms, and they jerk harshly causing him to cry out. Something cool comes over him, and he rests.

~

“...had the bones there all along,,,stopped him from bleeding out. ...to speculate... say… there when he was a child… as loneliness grew… fed by loveless people… growth stunted...

Richard blinked. “I can hear you,” he managed groggily.

He looks around, seeing everyone in the room. There is the doctor, Camille, Dwayne, and Catherine. Fidel must be at the station then.

Camille starts crying, and the others leave the room, reading some social cue, that he had missed.

“Is your wing alright?” he asks, remembering what happened, when he sees the bandages on her wing.

“You idiot!” she cries out, and he winces wondering what he had done wrong this time.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He isn’t sure what he is apologizing for, but an apology couldn’t make things any worse.

“No, I’m sorry.” she says.

Now he’s truly confused. “What are you apologizing for?”

“For not listening. For the pain you felt because I didn’t listen.”

He was still confused, and it seemed to show because she began to explain.

“The doctor said that given a few more weeks, your wings would have emerged more naturally. It seems they had been growing for the last few months, and your panic over seeing me fall caused them to come out too fast.” Her voice became a whisper here. “There was so much blood, and you went into shock, we weren’t sure if you were going to live. You woke up screaming a few times, and they had to sedate you. I was so scared, I - we almost lost you.”

He couldn’t process the information, he had wings? They had been growing for months? What had changed?

The answer hit him.

Sainte Marie.

Camille, Fidel, Dwayne, Catherine.

They cared about him.

They _loved_ him.

“Richard?”

His eyes snapped to her face. Before looking away.

So they loved him, it didn’t change the fact that his love did not have a physical presence on their wings.

“Richard?”

This time he responded. “ I don’t deserve them.”

It was Camille’s turn to be confused.

“Love is meant to be reciprocal.”

She smiled. She grabbed his hand, and pulled her uninjured wing around for him, placed that captured hand on the feathers. It took a moment to feel what she wanted him to.

“My wings were heavier than at my last check-up,” she said.

Tears sprang to his eyes. His love was there. The feathers were abundant, but invisible. Hidden, and shy, but there. For a moment, there was a flash of a prismatic array of color, and both Camille, and Richard gazed in awe.

~

It takes a few weeks for him to recover, and even still his back is tender and sore, and he is on light duty, He won’t be flying for a while, but that’s alright, the pain is worth it. He’s still broken, but at last he is starting to heal.

~

A week after returning to work, he participates in his first grooming session. He touches their wings tentatively, because he has never done it before. They don’t mock him, they are just happy to have him there for the first time since he had arrived on the island.

The previous sessions, something for him to take care of had always come up. They saw it for the excuse that it was, but never spoke of it.

Now they have his fingers, combing through, and straightening out, feathers, each of them he is pleased to find, have some feathers that are able to be felt, but were not visible, and several times he sees them flash with color as he had first seen on Camille. He is hesitant, but gentle, with his movements, and his confidence grows the longer he does it.

When it is his turn, he sits, and his nervousness is nearly tangible, they are very gentle with him. Though his was an adult, his wings were still tender, and sensitive, like the wings of a child. They are truly grateful for the trust he is giving them by letting them do this for him. He relaxes a little as they continue, and blushes a little when his wings give an involuntary flutter, not used to the pleasurable sensations. They all simply smile.

~

His wings show his emotions he finds. It’s embarrassing. It’s one thing to know how insecure he is, it’s another to find himself almost constantly cocooned by his own wings, in an obvious self-hug.

Luckily, the others don’t make fun of him, but they all seem to look at him with a bit of sadness, every time he was unable to stop it from happening.

~

His first flight occurs with the team by his side. He is shakily, and tires quickly, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

~

The murderer is intimidated.

Richards wings are on full display, proud, and strong, Wings glowing with his prismatic feathers shimmering.

The criminal freezes, and is quickly apprehended.

~

The next year he participates in the Angel’s Dance, the team by his side.

They tease him about smiling so much.

He tries to adopt a more stern expression, but he can’t. He is just too happy, Too much love, fills him, and if the result is a near constant smile, well, ce qui sera sera.


End file.
